Busted

I like comic relief, so I assume my readers do as well. It builds resilience, which is what this newsletter is all about. In that vein, I offer you another Catholic girl story. My last one, in March, was popular with readers. I hope you find this one amusing.

Busted

My second-grade teacher was a kind and patient woman, most of the time. But with forty-eight students in her classroom, some of whom were still struggling to learn to read, she needed to run a tight ship. And then there was the fact that she was teaching at a Catholic school, where the expectation was that every head remained facing forward, with every child paying full attention to the lesson, always.

A boy named Andy sat in front of me and was relentless in his habit of turning around to say distracting things, to try to make me laugh (at which he continually failed), and to behave in what I found to be an annoying manner. I got that he liked me, and I thought he was cute some of the time, but I was growing tired of his antics. He ignored my repeated attempts to get him to leave me alone. I even tried sticking my tongue at him. No change. I was amazed that Miss Miles didn’t call out his behavior. All I could guess was that she didn’t notice it.

So, I got the clever idea to make a much larger than life tongue, using conventional white lined paper, a pair of scissors, and a red crayon, all supplies readily available inside my desk. I colored the tongue thoroughly on both sides, enjoying the process. I had what I thought could be the solution to my problem, or at least I had a way forward in attempting to get my message across to this thick skulled boy.

Once my creation was complete, I didn’t have to wait long to try it out. I kept my hand on the large paper tongue inside my desk, so I would be ready when Andy turned around again. Boom, he turned, my red paper tongue went into my mouth, sticking out about three inches, two inches wide, and Miss Miles said my name. She said it loudly. She sternly stated that she would talk to me at the start of lunchtime.

I was made to eat my lunch in the classroom that day. No lunchroom with my classmates, no recess on the playground. Another teacher came in to have lunch with Miss Miles, and my teacher explained to her colleague why I was there. She talked loudly enough for me to hear her, clearly for my benefit. But there was something about the way she told it that let me know she wasn’t truly angry with me. She wanted me to learn a lesson, that even a good girl couldn’t get away with not paying attention in class. I thought it unfair that I got in trouble defending myself when Andy didn’t get caught misbehaving, but I also found it intriguing to see how the teachers spent their lunch break. And when I later told the story to my parents, I noticed them trying hard to not smile too much about the tongue I made and wore.